


First impressions

by RavenFire2908



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: First Impressions, Gen, baby fryes, child evie frye, child jacob frye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:21:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24916759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenFire2908/pseuds/RavenFire2908
Summary: Ethan’s first impression of his children when he returns to England. They were not what he expected.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	1. upon seeing them

**Author's Note:**

> (I have not read underworld, I do not know the Ethan character, so I made do with the wiki.)

The trip from India had been long and tiring. The ship’s crewmen having sauntered about late into the night as Ethan found himself in his cabin either sharpening his blades or daydreaming. He made vain attempts to get work done, reading and signing off on reports, reading about creed history. But as the days passed on, he could only find it incredibly boring.

Setting foot on land felt like a blessing. He’d hurried off as he spotted the few acquaintances, he’d regretfully made during the trip, heading his way. 

The first train heading to Crawley was quiet. The mulling of people barely casting him a glance. He stared out the windows, staring into the landscape he’d not seen in six years. It felt like an eternity, too long.

A part of him did regret leaving his children in the manner he did. He couldn’t help but wonder what Cecily would say, no doubt she’d be mad at him. There was even less doubt he’d hear it when they reunite in the afterlife. It tugged on his lips to imagine it, she’d hug him lovingly; whispering about how much she’d missed him, then tug him by the ear and yell until her voice went hoarse. 

And he probably deserved it.

Ethan raked a hand through his hair, he wasn’t sure what to expect of his children when he arrived. From the very few letters he’d exchanged with their grandmother he’d learned they were rather wild. Jacob, he came to learn, was a lot like himself when he was younger, one to throw himself into a fight and think of a plan as it came: which worried him upon thinking of his own youth. And Evie, a lot like Cecily, but a lot more sneaky; reporting Evie would appear wherever she pleased.

The train came to a halt, Ethan glanced out at the station.  _ One more stop _ thought Ethan. One more stop until he would come to face his past. 

Face the children he so cruelly left behind upon their mother’s death.

A part of him thanked his decision, he knew he wouldn’t be a good father so soon after Cecily’s death. He’d only learned so in India, becoming a mentor to his friend’s son; Jayadeep. The boy may have accidentally forced it out of him, but he was the main reason for coming home. Jayadeep’s soft, wise words, encouraging him to do the very thing he’d tried to avoid. 

The boy was wise beyond his years.

And at that moment he’d sounded more like the mentor and himself the student.

Ethan took another glance at the people around him, he needed to focus. He refused to call this a mission, yet despite himself, he found himself repeating the creed’s philosophy in his head.

_ ‘Don’t let personal feelings compromise the mission.’ _

This wasn’t a mission, he tried to say.

He neglected to admit it,  _ Your feelings are just as big part of this _ , he remembered hearing. His mind fogged up to whom, but they were right. This wasn’t a mission, this was his life. His children. His and  _ Cecily _ ’s children.

A knot formed in his stomach as the Crawley train station came into view. 

_ No going back now. _ He repeated, probably for the nineteenth time during the trip.

He stood from his seat, tossing his travel bag over his shoulder. It; concluding more weapons than clothes for the matter. 

Though it had been years since he’d been in Crawley, he knew England, in general, wasn’t a safe country. The small island, compared to the rest of the world, contained a major part of the Templar order. He felt his blades, his hidden one against his wrist, the throwing daggers on his belt. A gun would be hard to hide as he was currently just a man traveling, yet it lay securely in his bag in a very reachable pocket.

People flooded by the doors as the train came to a halt, the big skirts of women and men carrying luggage they very obviously weren’t strong enough to carry, halted his departure as it came.

Silently cursing he moved with the crowd, suddenly catching a suitcase flying towards his head.

“Sorry, mate!” Yelled a man as he took the suitcase from Ethan’s hands, “These compartments are so tight, you’re not hurt, right?”

“No,” Ethan said before slipping past the man and out the door.

He came into the Crawley station, glancing around for the familiar face. George was supposed to meet him at the station. 

The hissing of the train before the loud horn sounded its departure filled the air, as he finally spotted the man across the station. George waved him over with a single hand, the other holding the reins of a horse-drawn cart filled with wooden crates and barrels.

“My friend,” said George as he wrapped around Ethan, “It’s been ages.” The man smiled with joy, and Ethan couldn’t help but smile as well.

“It has,”

George took his bag from his hand and tossed it into the back of the cart before climbing onto the seat. “Don’t mind the cart, I’m bringing some supplies to town as well. Thought I’d kill two birds with one stone.”

George chuckled, “And whom may you be working for?” 

“Don’t worry, it’s just the baker, his son fractured his ankle and couldn’t do it.”

Ethan laughed as he sat down on the crate to the right of George. “How kind of you, Westhouse.”

George looked back at him with a raised eyebrow, “Don’t think I did this out of the kindness of my heart, I’m getting lunch as we get there.” Ethan barked another laugh, then the horses started walking.

The two chatted, catching up, as the horses walked. Ethan silently thanked the man for not rushing to the house. If for the sole purpose of procrastinating.

The cart came to a halt before the Baker’s shop, and an elderly man stumbled out. “Oh thank you, Mr. Westhouse.” Ethan squinted, the baker looked very much older than the last time he’d seen him. Forgetting briefly it had been six years.

“It was nothing,”

The baker handed George a small brown bag before taking the reins of the horses, leading them towards the back of the house. Ethan adjusted the bag to his back as he watched the town around them, he could smell the pastry in George’s pocket as the man came to a stop next to him.

“Come on, no need delaying the inevitable.”

Ethan nodded before following after George as he went.

The two walked through the town, slow enough for Ethan to rekindle and take in the new sights of the town. 

“Hey! Get back here!” A sudden shout came from the alley the two had just passed. They turned in time to see a young child sprint like his life depended on it. Pursuing him came three other boys, the three of them looking ragged and angry as they scouted for the boy who vanished between two buildings ahead of them.

Ethan raised an eyebrow to the sight, and George couldn’t help but laugh and mutter a mere “Kids.” with a small shrug.

The two continued to walk, the house Ethan’s mother-in-law lived in came into view. It was a small house just outside the confines of the town, a small cottage with a small garden in the front filled to the brim with flowers.

Ethan sighed, rather loudly, and George cast him a glance, he opened his mouth to speak when suddenly-

A loud yell filled the mulling of the streets. They turned and watched as a kid brought down a stick upon another kid, standing behind was the two angry boys from earlier. A girl yelling curses at the poor boy before her, one of the boys seemed to get behind her and suddenly pulled on her hair. Adults raced to the scene, pulling the girl and her stick off the boy as he sobbed for his mother, and the hair-tugger as he yelled. Ethan couldn’t hear the girl’s yelling over the shouting of adults.

Just then, another surprise raced past them, “Get away from her!” The boy he’d seen racing from the alley rushed into the crowd, Ethan expected the boy to go for the adults holding the girl, but the boy raced at the boy who had tugged on her hair, without a sliver of hesitation he threw himself at him, fists raced as he brought them down on the boy.

Adults at the scene cried in horror, pulling the children apart. Multiple having to hold onto one child as they fought to fight.

“Children…” Ethan sighed.

George chuckled next to him, “Those are  _ your  _ children.”

Ethan froze, staring at his friend. When he detected no lies, he stared back at the square. The two children, the ones presumably his, Evie and Jacob, were scolded by an elderly woman. A woman he did not recognize as Cecily’s mother.

The two children stared at the ground before meeting each other’s glance. He barely saw their faces before the two ran off, taking off in separate directions. The woman cried out, but the children had already vanished between the buildings.

“They meet up in the back garden, do not worry,” George said as he tugged on Ethan’s shoulder.

Ethan stared after George as he walked to the house gate, pushing it open and gesturing for him to enter first. He couldn’t help but pray

_ Dear Cecily, I have not even met our children and I just witnessed them beat up some kids and run away from the consequences. What am I getting into when I do meet them? _


	2. Upon meeting them

Ethan and George sat quietly as Cecily’s mother talked. Or rather rambled about her grandchildren. As sweet as his mother-in-law appeared, he knew the real dangers she could do. She did, almost, stab him with a knitting needle once upon a time.

And still, Ethan found the impression she was trying to pull on the children rather strange. How they were darling children, ones that would never get into trouble, how they would always help her tend to her garden.

George promptly chocked on his cherry cakes.

She told quietly how she knew they were adventurous and that they could be carefree, she’d had to clean off a few wounds here and there. 

“Jacob is probably the more carefree of the two of them, he doesn’t like to listen to people he doesn’t like.” She said as she poured herself another cup of tea, “And Evie, I’d say she is a very well combination between yourself and Cecily.”

Ethan looked at her over the rim of his cup.

“Very strategic and calculating, fast and silent, but when someone, mostly Jacob, is in danger; she can throw herself into the fight just as you did yourself.”

Ethan swallowed, sighing at her obvious tease of his character, “Did you not just mention they don’t get into trouble?” 

The woman laughed, “They don’t get into trouble with me.” he could see in her eyes that she knew more than she was letting up. “Either way, the two should be home soon. Dinner is almost ready to be served.”

The three sat in comfortable silence before Cecily’s mother raised a hand, holding up three fingers and slowly counting down. 

3

2

1

A door creaked in the kitchen, and the low, rapid whisper and hurried feet filled the silence. The door clicked shut softly.

“You call me reckless-” They heard.

“You are. You antagonized them first!”

“No, I didn’t! I walked by and Tommy started talking crap-”

“Sit down, get Grandmama to see that. It looks bad”

Said Grandmama shifted in her seat before rising with a hurry, she entered the kitchen with her arms crossed. She’d barely stepped into the kitchen before she rushed forward, fast for her age. “What happened?!” She cried.

Ethan leaned forward in his chair, curiosity pushing at the edge of his mind to check on them.

“Tommy threw a stone at Jacob,” The kitchen clinked with glass and wood against wood as the woman looked at the apparent wound.

“Why would he-”

“Because he likes to be a bully.” Answered Jacob from the sound of it. “I’m okay, Evie hit him with a stick for it.”

Grandmama  _ laughed. _

Ethan looked at George, who smiled and mouthed ‘ _ Vengence _ ’

“Get cleaned up, we have guests.” The two children were pushed from the kitchen. The two stared at the two men in the chairs, prominently Ethan more so than George.

“Who are you?” Asked Jacob, his eyes narrowing as he came to pout at him. The boy puffed up his chest as well, crossing his arms in mockery of making himself look bigger.

Ethan opened his mouth to introduce himself but was cut off as Grandmama pushed the two of them towards the stairs. “He will introduce himself soon, get cleaned up.” She cast a glance at Ethan, silently telling him to prepare what he was going to say. No doubt the children would have questions as well.

The twins came down with clean faces and one bandaged forehead. The two seated themselves across from Ethan, close enough that leaning over to whisper to each other was not a problem. 

“Evie, Jacob, this is your father, Ethan,” Grandmama said finally as dinner was set. 

The two locked eyes on Ethan. Ethan himself suddenly feeling the weight of the situation falling over his head like a ton of bricks. They continued to stare at him, mouths agape. 

That was, until, Jacob’s face crumpled up and a barely audible “ _ Damn it _ ”

Evie’s face lit up before she swirled to her brother, “You owe me two desserts!” 

The adults halted at the sudden outburst, Jacob groaned and flopped back on his chair, “Come on! We made that bet years ago!”

Evie smirked, “Doesn’t matter, a bet is a bet. And I won.”

Jacob groaned louder before huffing, “Fine.”

Ethan, blinked where he sat dumbfounded. Of all the things he’d expected from the two, a secret bet was not one of them…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bet was: Evie bet their father was very high ranking and very strict person, while Jacob had hoped and bet for someone fun.


End file.
